Chicken and the Chippy

Ah, England!  When I informed my friends and colleagues that I was moving from Japan to Oxford, the first comment out of every Japanese person’s mouth was, “But the food is so terrible!”  I do not disagree.

Where the motherland DOES succeed, thankfully, is in the art of the chippy — your local, slightly frightening and dingy little shack that serves up kebab, burgers, pies, and — of course — fish and chips.  Now, contrary to claims otherwise, a trip to a chippy is indeed not healthy at all, and subsequently I avoid both them and kebab vans unless I’m proper drunk or very poor.

Luckily for this blog post, while I wasn’t drunk the other night, I was Quite Poor and Exceptionally Lazy, so I decided to march over to the local greasepit and ordered up a chicken fillet burger.  Expecting less-than-sensational quality and horrible stomach pain, I was surprised beyond all imagining to discover that I had received the best goddamned chicken burger in the world.

Rather than a weird reconstituted patty, the sandwich was made of two perfectly cooked (greasy but not too greasy, nice and crisp) giant chicken tenders that more or less melted in my mouth.  I fell in love, and have had two since.

Unfortunately, the chippy here in Sydenham (SE26) seems pretty lackluster about its other staples.  I tried a kebab against my better judgment (I was tipsy that night, so I’m convinced I’m not to blame), and I am dismayed to report that it was not unlike consuming styrofoam.  Sigh.

After all, I don’t think it’s too much to expect that, when I order fast food, it tastes like the stray cat or rodent from which it’s made.  The UK obviously needs to take a few pointers from Taco Bell.